The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The evening had settled over the capital like a heavy cloak.

Lord Cedric sat in his private study, a room that few people in the kingdom were ever invited into. It was a space of power and knowledge, lined with books and documents, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight, dominated by a massive oak desk upon which the affairs of state were managed.

He had been reviewing reports for hours.

Trade disputes. Military movements. Grain supplies for the winter. The endless bureaucratic machinery that kept a kingdom functioning. His eyes were tired, his shoulders tense, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a headache was beginning to form.

He was about to dismiss his servants for the evening when there came a soft knock at the study door.

”Enter,” Cedric said, not looking up from the ledger before him.

A courier stepped inside...a young man, perhaps twenty-five, wearing the insignia of the royal messenger service. He was dusty from travel, his face flushed from exertion, his breathing still somewhat labored.

”My lord,” the courier said, bowing. ”An urgent message from the field. From Greaves.”

Cedric’s head snapped up immediately.

Greaves was the investigator he’d sent to Ashford. The mission was supposed to take two weeks. It had been nearly that long, but Cedric had not expected to hear back so quickly.

”Give it here,” Cedric said, standing and stretching out his hand.

The courier approached and handed over a sealed letter. The wax seal bore Cedric’s own sigil....indicating that only Cedric’s hands should have opened it. The envelope itself was unmarked except for a single word: URGENT.

Cedric dismissed the courier with a wave and waited until the young man had left and the door had closed before he broke the seal.

His hands were steady as he unfolded the parchment, but his mind was already racing with possibilities. Why would Greaves mark this as urgent? What had he found?

As Cedric read, his expression shifted.

Slowly at first...a tightening around his eyes, a subtle hardening of his jaw. But as he continued reading, his entire body seemed to tense. By the time he reached the end of the letter, he was standing rigidly, his knuckles white where he gripped the parchment.

He read it again.

Then a third time.

Each reading seemed to deepen his understanding of the implications.

She’s not entirely human.

Her birth name carried weight. Destiny. Danger.

The village is protecting her.

The threat is active. They WILL be found.

Cedric set the letter down on his desk and stared at it for a long moment, his mind working through the implications like a master chess player seeing three moves ahead.

The girl...Morgana, was far more significant than he’d initially understood. Her origins were a mystery wrapped in secrets. And the village’s fierce protection of her suggested that whoever she was running from was genuinely dangerous.

But there was something else, something that made Cedric’s blood run cold.

If Greaves had discovered all this, then others might too. Or others might already know.

I need to act quickly, Cedric thought. And I need to act carefully.

He moved to the bell-pull near his desk and rang it sharply.

Within moments, his personal servant appeared. His name was Marcus, a man in his forties, loyal and discreet, someone Cedric trusted absolutely.

”Marcus,” Cedric said without preamble, ”I need you to go to Elder Aldrich’s estate immediately. I need you to deliver a message directly to him, personally. No intermediaries.”

Marcus’s expression didn’t change, but his posture straightened. Personal messages to council elders meant serious business.

”Of course, my lord,” Marcus said. ”What is the message?”

”Tell him,” Cedric said carefully, choosing each word with precision, ”that I require his presence at my estate by nightfall. Tell him it concerns urgent matters related to the throne.”

”Yes, my lord. I will leave immediately.”

”Wait,” Cedric added. He moved to a piece of parchment and quickly wrote a brief note, nothing more than a confirmation of what he’d instructed Marcus to say verbally. He sealed it with wax. ”Give him this as well. Make certain he knows this comes from me.”

”Understood, my lord. I will not rest until I deliver this to Elder Aldrich personally.”

Marcus took the sealed note and bowed, then departed with the kind of quiet efficiency that Cedric valued in his staff.

Cedric returned to his desk and read Greaves’s letter a fourth time.

Then he sat back in his chair and allowed himself a moment to think through what this meant. What this changed. What this threatened.

***

The journey from Cedric’s estate to Elder Aldrich’s took Marcus nearly an hour of hard riding.

The capital was vast, sprawling across multiple hills, with grand estates and lesser homes scattered throughout, connected by winding streets and narrow alleys. Aldrich’s estate lay in the northern quarter, a part of the city where the oldest families kept their residences, where the stone of the buildings carried the weight of centuries.

Marcus knew the way well, he had been to Aldrich’s estate before, carrying messages for Cedric. But tonight, the darkness seemed deeper, the streets seemed narrower, and the weight of urgency made even familiar roads feel strange.

He rode through the gates of Aldrich’s estate as the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of deep purple and orange.

The estate itself was impressive in its restraint, not the most ostentatious building in the capital, but clearly built and maintained by someone of significant wealth and power. Stone walls. Iron gates. Well-maintained gardens, even in the fading light. Servants moving about with the efficiency of a well-run household.

Marcus dismounted and approached the main entrance. A servant...a woman in her fifties, appeared almost immediately, as if the household was always prepared for visitors.

”I am Marcus, servant to Lord Cedric,” he said formally. ”I carry an urgent message for Elder Aldrich. It is critical that I speak with him directly.”